Calling the Bluff
by Nell McKeon
Summary: Outlaw Days - Written as a challenge story. A Hannibal Heyes Plan to rescue two captured members of the Devil's Hole Gang goes awry. Will the Sheriff or Heyes fold or call the bluff?
1. Chapter 1

_This was short story written for a challenge "Calling the Bluff" early in my writing attempts for ASJ._

 **Calling the Bluff**

 **By Nell McKeon**

"Heyes? Heyes, you see anybody in the cells?" Kid Curry hissed from the corner of the back alley as his eyes darted up and down the narrow dirt thoroughfare, searching for any sign of movement by the dim light of a quarter moon.

"No, they're empty." The barely visible figure slipped from one shadow to the deeper shadow of the jail's back doorway. Flattening himself against the sturdy wooden door, he pulled his lock pick from his vest pocket. Quickly and quietly he set to work and in a matter of mere minutes, Hannibal Heyes was gesturing to his partner to come join him.

The two experienced thieves moved confidently into the dark building, closing the door noiselessly behind them. They let their eyes adjust to the lowered light level before advancing past the two cells and into the sheriff's office, Curry moving to take his place at the front window, watching for any movement along the main street.

Heyes placed the small desk lamp on the floor behind the old battered sheriff's desk and lit it, hurriedly adjusting the flame as low as possible. He competently searched the drawers, removing several sheets of letterhead paper, an envelope, a pen, a bottle of ink, a pair of handcuffs and silently crowing with delight, appropriated a brand new, shiny Elk Creek Deputy's badge.

"Okay, Kid."

Curry glanced back into the room in time to catch his partner's look of yearning at the ancient safe, sitting forlornly in the corner.

"Heyes, we don't got time for fun, besides that old thing isn't any kind of challenge. Extinguish the flame and let's get out of here."

With a sigh, Heyes did just that.

Leaving the jail without a trace, the two men crept undetected through the back alley to where they had left their horses. Mounted, Curry gave one last look around before nodding to his partner and kicking his gelding into motion .The two thieves left Elk Creek in the dead of night without their presence ever being known.

* * *

Curry stood absently sipping lukewarm water from his canteen, gauging the position of the brilliant morning sun in the cloudless sky, his eyebrows drawn into a tight V. The horses had their heads down, taking advantage of the tufts of green grass growing alongside a small creek in a grove of aspens close to the road.

"The gang should be back in the hole by now. Don'tcha think?"

"Should be, if everything went as planned. And they better not have spent a dollar of the haul until we get back; that is, until all of us get back." Heyes' voice carried the force of his considerable determination as he dug around in his saddle bags.

Kid snorted, "Well, the first part sure didn't work out as planned; let's hope the second part does, 'cos I sure don't want to spend twenty years with Wheat and Kyle in the next prison cell."

Heyes looked up at his skeptical partner, a hint of wounded pride coloring his warm, brown eyes. "Kid, don't tell me you're losing faith in my plans."

"No, Heyes, the plan is a good one and I've got faith in you playin' your part. It's the rest of us I'm worried about."

"Don't worry, if you weren't an outlaw, you'd be a natural lawman. Now, if Wheat and Kyle can just keep their traps shut, by this time tomorrow we'll be half way to Devil's Hole."

"Hey, you better let me do that. The last thing we need is the sheriff to telegraph Elk Creek because he can't read your handwritin'."

"I can do it. My writing isn't that bad. You can read it," Heyes declared as he smoothed the piece of letterhead on top of a book set on a flat-topped, large rock.  
He looked up in annoyance when his pen struck granite, his partner having snatched the bottle of ink right out from under his nose in the blink of an eye.

"I can only read it 'cos I know how you think and you can only read it 'cos you know what you wanted to say and make it up again if you have to read it back. Now quit arguin', we're runnin' out of time. I'll write, you dictate."

Kid Curry folded the just-written document carefully, inserted it into an envelope and placed it along with Heyes' Schofield in his saddle bag. Kid sighed and forced down his increasing feelings of anxiety and unease. He straightened up and turned from his dark bay, his eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of his partner.

"What's the matter, Kid, I'm just gonna give you a few pointers."

"I don't need pointers, Heyes. I've seen enough lawmen up close. It's that damn star that gives me the creeps. You'd better unpin it from your vest and hand it over along with the cuffs so I can put them on you before…" Curry suddenly straightened up, cocked his head and made a chopping motion with his hand to forestall the response Heyes was ready to make.

Both partners' faces fell as five men thundered around the bend and rode into view. Stars shining proudly on the chests of three hard-looking men, two of which were leading the mounts of captured members of the Devil's Hole Gang, wrists bound tightly to their saddle horns.

Two sets of eyes stared down the dusty road in shared disbelief. _The timing of the whole job has been off - they're early, damn it!_

The riders slowed their horses and the lead rider drew his six gun. The two bound outlaws raised their heads and while the older mustached man managed to keep his expression neutral, the smaller, younger one couldn't disguise the hope that flashed across his grubby face and let out a startled gasp.

Heyes and Curry both shot barely perceptible glances at Heyes' chest and hands before meeting in quick unspoken agreement. _Not the first and best choice but on to Plan B._ They turned in unison to meet the silent lawmen who were suspiciously studying them.

"Well, ain't this a stroke of good luck. Here are just the men I'm trying to meet up with and earlier than I hoped. I'm Deputy John Hotchkiss out of Elk Creek."

Heyes pasted on a huge smile of relief and didn't acknowledge the quick thinking of his partner who had unobtrusively slipped his Colt into Heyes' holster.

Heyes stuck out his right hand as he walked forward.

"Aw, shucks, let me put these back on my prisoner. I let him take care of business by himself, he had to, you know, and that's more personal than I wanted to get and didn't want to deal with the smell if he ain't too neat and got the cuffs soiled, if I left them on one wrist, if you know what I mean. Since you got your gun out already, you can keep him covered for me although me and him got an understandin' goin' from when he spent a few hours with us in Elk Creek. Sheriff Barton don't tolerate no bad behavior from no-good thievin' outlaws. We don't care none even if they are members of the infamous Devil's Hole Gang, especially not nobody named Fred Brown. What kinda outlaw name is that? It's got no imagination. No wonder I ain't never read about him in those dime novels."

Heyes put his back to the lawmen and clicked the handcuffs onto Curry's wrists, careful not to close them too tightly. He deftly moved his lock pick from his vest pocket to Kid's vest pocket while pretending to pat him down. He continued his monologue to the silent watchers.

"Gotta make sure he didn't pick up any sharp sticks or rocks while he was taking a dump, now don't I. He's clean," Heyes announced.

Wheat and Kyle, in spite of the situation, snickered. At the blue-eyed glare from the handcuffed gunman their expression returned to appropriately serious.

All three lawmen had their guns pointing at the two men, mostly aiming at the blond, but they were clearly deciding on the veracity of dark-haired man's story.

The older, leather-faced man, who appeared in charge, rode a little forward, signaling his companions to remain on guard. He met the steady brown eyes of Deputy Hotchkiss. "Hotchkiss, from Elk Creek is it?"

Heyes nodded affirmatively.

"Okay, Hotchkiss. I'm Sheriff Tanner from Rock Ridge and these men are Tom Norton and Adam Davis, my deputies. I have a few questions. Why are you trying to meet up with us and do you have any proof you are who you say you are? These are members of the Devil's Hole Gang and they're known to take care of their own."

Heyes smiled, nodded his head in approval at the sheriff's questions and cooperatively answered, "Those are mighty fine questions, Sheriff, especially when dealing with the Devil's Hole Gang. You can't be too careful now, can you? Of course, I have documents with me. Sheriff Barton, he's feeling poorly at the moment, on account of him having the grippe that's been goin' around, wrote it all in a letter I was to present to you when I met up with the posse outta Rock Ridge. If it's okay with you, I'll get the letter from my saddle bags, real slow like so no one gets upset and jumpy."

Sheriff Tanner waved his left hand to the tethered horses but kept his gun aimed in the general direction of Heyes and the Kid. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the still-mounted deputies and started to issue orders, "We might as well rest and water the horses. Get the prisoners off their mounts. Sit them down at the side of the road. Adam, you keep an eye on them while Tom waters the horses. So, Hotchkiss, you think you can tell me what you're doing here, briefly? We don't have all day and I want to get back to Rock Ridge while it's still light."

Heyes had slowly walked to Kid's gelding, opened the saddle bag and retrieved the forged letter with deliberate and careful movements.

"No problem, ya can read it yourself in a moment. But I can tell ya. We got the telegram 'bout the bank robbery and askin' for assistance in searchin' and apprehendin' the responsible miscreants. Well, we just rustled up our own little posse and scouted the trails back to Devils' Hole. Sure 'nuff we got lucky and ran across them riding back to the hole. After some hard ridin' we managed to nab this fella here when his horse stumbled and threw him. We reckon Heyes and Curry were ridin' towards the front. My heart just 'bout broke watchin' twenty thousand dollars and the honest folks' money ride outta reach."

Kid shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on his boots in order to hide the threatening smile. He couldn't help thinking that perhaps Plan B was the right way to go after all. He could never shovel the B***s**t as readily and smoothly as his partner.

The eyes of the younger, lighter brown-haired deputy, guarding Wheat and Kyle, were slowly glazing and he strained to keep up with the tide of words flowing from the Elk Creek Deputy. The sheriff impatiently dismounted, handing his reins over to the darker brown-haired deputy. He swiped the letter from Heyes' outstretched hand, ripped open the envelope, unfolded it and began to scan the contents.

Heyes took this as his cue to continue his story, "See, us law in Elk Creek is kinda short-handed right now, with the sheriff, like I said, feelin' poorly, and me the only deputy. Elk Creek's a real peaceable itty bitty town and we thought that Rock Ridge bein' in a more civilized area and a bigger town would be much better equipped to foil any rescue attempts by the Devil's Hole Gang. 'Sides it was your town bank that got robbed and I'd just need to escort this sorry excuse for an outlaw there anyway. So why not do it now, instead of later and if I met up with you all then so much the better, more protection, right?"

The hard-bitten lawman looked up from the letter in his hand to the badge pinned on Heyes' chest. His flinty, gray eyes narrowed as he turned to look searchingly at the two bound men sitting on the ground under guard. The older outlaw met his eyes with defiance but the younger man was working his chaw and darting quick glances at the blond cuffed thief.

"Hotchkiss, that all sounds very reasonable and convincing but…" Sheriff Tanner's gun was now trained straight at the shiny Elk Creek deputy badge. "…that nervous little fella seemed a little less nervous and a wee bit hopeful at the sight of you and your prisoner. Now, I'm thinking, why would that be?"

Heyes cut in, "No reason that I can think of Sheriff, except maybe he's glad to see Fred Brown here alive."

Kid frowned then raised his head to better follow the developing situation. He was grateful that Heyes had cuffed his hands in front, which allowed for a little more maneuvering, should it become necessary. He refrained from looking at his partner but tried to signal Wheat to get ready to follow their lead with a tilt of his head and a look. Kyle had turned red and kept his head down, his shoulders slumped and his chewing increased in intensity.

"Oh, I'm sure he's happy to see that man alive but I don't think he's Fred Brown. In fact, I haven't heard of a Fred Brown being in the Devil's Hole Gang."

"Well, that's the name he gave us but now that ya mention it, a lotta outlaws use other names, whattaya call them, an alias, that's it, and Fred Brown could be an alias."

Heyes stepped up to Kid and got in his face. "Ya usin' an alias, boy? It's a dumb one at that, no imagination. What's your given name ,you thievin' scum?"

Tanner stepped closer to both men, his gun still aimed at Heyes. "I'm gonna bet his name is Kid Curry. He fits the description - Five foot eleven, one hundred sixty-five pounds, blond hair, blue eyes and looks barely out of his teens. Curry's supposed to be twenty-five but rumor says one reason he's called Kid is he looks younger. And what's more, I'm wondering if you're Hannibal Heyes - dark hair, brown eyes, late twenties, same height and a little thinner than the Kid. I think you better hand over your gun now."

Heyes' eyes hardened and he managed to look genuinely affronted as he met the steady gaze of the suspicious lawman while surreptitiously giving a calming pat on the arm to the increasingly tense Kid. He slowly drew Kid's Colt from his own holster, kept his hand off the hammer and the barrel pointing at the ground but did not hand the revolver to Tanner.

"I don't know if this here is Kid Curry or not, but I do know I'm not Hannibal Heyes. Ya read the letter from Sheriff Barton. Now where would Hannibal Heyes get Sheriff Barton's stationary? 'Sides, that deputy with the horses fits Hannibal Heyes' description. I bet half the men around here fit Hannibal Heyes' description."

Tanner suddenly smiled slyly. "There's one way to find out now, isn't there? Heyes and Curry are known to be real protective of each other, almost like brothers, they say. They're also wanted dead or alive. Hannibal Heyes wouldn't shoot his partner. Why don't we see if that's true?"

Kid and Heyes shot rapid glances at each other. _Is this for real or is he bluffing?_ Kid's blue eyes darkened with anger, while Heyes stared at the smirking sheriff in slightly stunned disbelief before holstering the Colt.

"Let me get this straight, sheriff, ya want me to shoot an unarmed man, who might or might not be wanted dead or alive."

Five sets of eyes concentrated on the building confrontation between the sheriff and the Elk Creek Deputy, the threat of deadly danger suddenly becoming immediate.

Both partners were using all their considerable skill at reading people and situations to gauge the seriousness of the sheriff's intent.

"Yep, I'm positive he's Kid Curry; the question I'm trying to decide is whether you're Hannibal Heyes. Shoot him and I'd be inclined to believe you're Hotchkiss."

"I can't shoot an unarmed man. That's murder," Heyes stated with utter conviction.

The three lawmen from Rock Ridge snickered. The deputy guarding Wheat and Kyle landed a swift kick to Kyle's side. "It's doin' the taxpayers a favor, getting rid of scum like this; you'd be saving the cost of a trial and a hanging."

"It's prison, we never killed nobody," Wheat muttered. Kyle's head bobbed up and down in agreement as he spat tobacco at the boots of the deputy who was securing the horses. Deputy Adam Davis shoved his gun up against Wheat's temple, causing both outlaws to keep their mouths shut.

"Where's the Kid's gun? And the key to the cuffs?" Tanner asked as he started towards Heyes' and Curry's horses.

Kid spoke for the first time, his voice hard and controlled, "Hotchkiss took it and shoved it in his saddle bag."

Tanner found the Schofield, checked the load, slipped several bullets from his own gun belt and , with his back to the group ,and the revolver half in and half out of the saddle bag, fiddled with it.

 _Is he loading it, Kid? Can you tell?_

 _Don't know, Heyes._

"The cuff key, Hotchkiss - or should I say Heyes?" demanded Sheriff Tanner.

Heyes silently handed over the key. He rapidly assessed the situation, of which he was losing control, and not liking it one bit.

Tanner removed the handcuffs from Curry and shoved the Schofield in Curry's empty holster. "There, he's armed," he announced with a malevolent chuckle.  
Heyes adjusted his hat and schooled himself not to wipe his forehead. _Never let them see you sweat_. "Ya want me draw on a man ya think is Kid Curry? Are ya nuts? No one is as fast as the Kid."

"If he's the Kid and guns you down, he'll be dead before you hit the ground and Deputy Hotchkiss will be a name for the history books as the man the Kid killed right before he died. If he's the Kid and doesn't shoot you, well, then you'll be joining the rest of the Devil's Hole Gang in my nice jail cells, the same place you'll be if you don't shoot, Mr. Heyes, that is, if I'm feeling charitable and don't shoot you both. If he's Fred Brown and you really are Deputy John Hotchkiss, then you got a chance. How fast are you?"

Kid laid his right hand on the butt of Heyes' revolver, snug alongside his right thigh. "Can I check my gun?"

Tanner raised his own pistol and aimed it the blond. "Go ahead."

Curry checked the load, shot a sideways look at the grinning sheriff and placed the Schofield back in his holster as he walked a suitable distance before squaring off against his partner.

Both men stood with feet planted shoulder width apart, the blond visibly more relaxed than the dark-haired man, and hands at their sides. Calm, expressionless blue eyes met very dark brown eyes.

Wheat and Kyle sat still as statues, neither knowing what the partners would do. One deputy kept his gun trained on the gang members while the second deputy and the sheriff had the gunmen in their sights. The air seemed to still and sounds faded away.

A dark eyebrow raised and brown eyes flicked towards the sheriff and deputies. _Can we take them fast enough?_

Curry frowned and gave a tiny jerk of his head. _No!_

 _I can't shoot you, Kid._

 _You better, otherwise we're both dead._

Kid twitched his left shoulder and settled into his stance. He suddenly realized he would have to draw first; this was way out of the realm of Heyes' planning or experience.

The sheriff closely scrutinized the situation and involuntarily shuddered upon seeing the blue eyes turn glacial.

In a flash too fast to see, Kid Curry drew. Heyes followed a split second later.

 _Shoot, Heyes! Damn it, shoot me!_

 _ **BANG!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Calling the Bluff**

 **Chapter Two**

Kid staggered back a few steps before falling to his knees then slowly sank back, sitting on his heels. The unfired Schofield slipped from his fingers to the dusty road. He clamped his right hand to his left shoulder and applied as much pressure as he could tolerate with a palm slick with warm blood. Blue eyes remained fixed worriedly upon his partner, standing rigidly a few yards away.

"He did it! Wheat, did you see that? He shot the Kid!" Kyle exclaimed in shocked disbelief before his words were cut short from a blow to the ribs from Wheat's elbow.

Sheriff Tanner tossed a knowing look at the disheveled, short, seated outlaw before sauntering over to check on the downed man. He glanced over his shoulder at the still immobile deputy, noticing the blank, stunned expression before turning his attention back to the injured outlaw.

"I think we can dispense with the fictional Fred Brown, don't you? Only one man I know of can draw like that and apparently, your cohorts in crime over there agree. You're lucky, Curry, Hotchkiss has lousy aim, or a soft heart, and didn't kill you."

"Not that I could have done anything about it. Wasn't exactly a fair fight, he doesn't get bragging rights for shooting me." Curry managed to sound annoyed even as he fought to control the pain set aflame in his left shoulder and pulsing down his arm.

Tanner sniggered, "I ain't crazy enough to give Kid Curry a loaded gun even if we had you covered." He bent down to retrieve the Schofield. "Of course, Hotchkiss couldn't know that; I had to see what he'd do."

Heyes' hand tightened around Kid's Colt until his knuckles turned white. He stated with dangerous, deadly calm, "I shot a man armed with an unloaded gun? It's okay to turn me into a murderer to satisfy a bluff?"

The spectators' attention was once again ricocheting between the sheriff from Rock Ridge and the supposed deputy from Elk Creek as the tension that had dissipated with the shooting ratcheted up again.

Tanner straightened, with his hand on his holstered revolver, replied with a hint of threat in his gravelly voice. "What are you complaining about? You called my bluff and he's not dead…yet. A man facing his partner would be calmer, knowing the Kid's skill, but a man facing Kid Curry, unless he was a professional, would be nervous and probably scared. You looked sick and decidedly unhappy. If you were Heyes, I'd expect you to graze him…" Tanner eyeballed the bleeding outlaw before returning his attention to Heyes, "…not shoot him squarely in the shoulder. But maybe I was mistaken? Was I mistaken, Deputy John Hotchkiss?"

Curry called with as much force as he could muster, "You're not mistaken. Look, can you two argue over this later? I'm bleeding here and unless I'm mistaken, lawmen are supposed to try to take their prisoners in alive. Now that I've served your purpose in truth gathering, I'd like to stay alive."

Kid observed with satisfaction that his partner's expression and stance indicated Heyes was managing to master his spiraling ire and reorganize his priorities. He took note of Heyes holstering the Colt and his hick deputy persona once again cloaking the intelligent and determined outlaw leader.

Deputy Hotchkiss moved forward to attend to his prisoner with deliberate strides, his face reflecting, for Kid's eyes only, the distress and anguish he was feeling.

Wheat and Kyle sighed in relief and closely watched their two leaders, wondering how badly the Kid was hurt.

Tanner stared at Curry for a long moment before issuing orders for their renewed journey to Rock Ridge's jail. "Adam and Tom, get those two back up on their horses. Hotchkiss can take care of his prisoner. Hotchkiss, I want his hands cuffed in back, not in the front like you had him before. I don't care if he is shot, he's still Kid Curry. Tie him to his horse if you have to; I'm not taking any chances. Everyone keep an eye out for Heyes and the rest of the Devil's Hole Gang."

Heyes knelt by the Kid's side, mute misery etched in his countenance before being wiped from his face, replaced with business-like concern.

"Let's see the damage, Curry."

"Is there an exit wound? I think my collar bone is broken, can you tell?" Kid asked through clenched teeth as Heyes peered at Curry's back and ran his dexterous fingers along the bloody upper chest and shoulder after swiping the wound with his own bandana.

Tanner dangled a cream-colored shirt into the partner's field of vision. "Here, I found this in his saddle bag. You can use it for a bandage. It should be good enough until we get back to town."

Heyes looked up. "The bullet's still in and his collar bone feels broken. He won't be able to ride with his hands cuffed behind."

"Like I said, tie him to the horse or tie him over the horse but his hands stay behind him." Tanner was not to be swayed. The sheriff turned to retrieve the horses.

Heyes picked up the cream shirt and swiftly and competently dressed the still-bleeding wound. His hands started to tremble as he tied the makeshift bandage off. "This is my best shirt."

Kid firmly grasped Heyes' wrist with his right hand. He whispered urgently, "Be glad he only opened the one saddlebag and not the other. I'll buy you a new shirt."

"It's not the shirt, Kid."

"I know. Don't worry, Deputy Hotchkiss, you have a plan, we're gonna keep followin' it."

"This isn't my plan."

"It's close enough. Listen, you're a genius 'cos you can adapt with the changin' situation and have things come out right no matter what. We're adaptin'."

Their eyes met and Heyes took a deep breath. He flipped his hand, captured Kid's right wrist in a strong grip and tugged upwards.

"Stand-up, Curry. Ya ain't bleedin' too badly now. Ya should thank me that I do have a soft heart. My boss, Sheriff Barton, says that's one of my failin', it might keep me from makin' sheriff when he retires someday unless I toughen up. Now put your hands behind your back before I yank 'em back for ya myself."

Kid bit his lower lip to keep from crying out as he complied. Heyes and the lighter-haired deputy set about getting the Kid mounted on Heyes' chestnut. Kid swayed in the saddle before regaining his equilibrium and he looked down at the brief touch of his partner on his thigh.

 _You going to be able to ride?_

 _Don't have a choice, I'll stay on._

Heyes mounted Curry's dark bay and gathered the chestnut's reins in his hand. The posse set off down the road towards Rock Ridge. The sheriff rode in front and each deputy led a mounted bound prisoner. Heyes was torn with wanting to hurry up and get Kid medical care as soon as possible and riding at the slowest pace possible in order to cause his partner the least amount of pain.

* * *

"Hey, sheriff! Can we have some water for him and some new bandages? It's the least you can do if the doctor can't get here until mornin'," Wheat called out to the main room as he gripped the bars of his and Kyle's cell.

Kyle sat on the cot next to Kid's, separated by the bars of the adjoining cells. He had his arm through the space between the iron bars as far as he could reach; pressing both his and Wheat's bandanas against the blood-soaked cream shirt still covering Curry's wound.

Sheriff Tanner roughly pushed back his chair and stalked over to a battered cupboard along the side wall. He dug around in a drawer and removed a roll of yellowed muslin. Stopping to pick up the water pitcher and tin cup he made his way to the cells.

"Here, do what you can. I promised Hotchkiss the doc would be summoned as soon as his housekeeper lets us know when he comes back from the Lazy S ranch tomorrow. Now leave me alone; I've got to get the paperwork finished, especially since the marshals I requested to help guard you fellas will be here tomorrow. I want everything in order; this is going to make a name for me."

The door opened and Deputy Hotchkiss walked in.

"Back so soon?"

"Yeah, my nerves keep proddin' my stomach, can't eat a thing, Sheriff. Why don't you go over to the café and join your deputies? I'll guard these sorry excuses of men for ya."

"Just keep to the schedule, Hotchkiss. You've got the graveyard shift. Now get some rest at the hotel. Tom will wake you at the start of his last rounds to relieve him here." Tanner didn't even look up from his desk.

Heyes gritted his teeth and after a long look at the maneuverings of Wheat and Kyle trying to tend to Curry in the next cell he turned and exited the jail. Deep furrows formed in his forehead as he replayed the scene in his mind. _Kid looked pretty pale and it looked like sweat was beading on his face. I hope infection isn't starting yet. The bullet's still in and damn it – I put it there!_

* * *

Deputy Tom Norton yawned, stretched and got up to do his last rounds of the night. He snickered at the thought of waking Hotchkiss up for his relief. It was fitting that the eager, soft deputy was assigned to the worst shift. With a last look at the secured prisoners, he locked the jail door behind him and set off.

Kid Curry's eyes sprung open. He lay on the narrow cot and searched within himself for the strength to initiate phase two of Plan B. The left side of his chest felt on fire, and every breath fueled it and sent sparks of lightening down through his arm. He felt hot, sweaty and, as he struggled to sit up, dizzy. Kid forced his nausea down and fished Heyes' lock pick out of his vest pocket. He could do this. He'd follow the plan until they all got back to Devil's Hole. He'd be fine; otherwise Hannibal Heyes would never forgive himself and that was one thing Kid Curry would not let happen. He staggered to the cell door and leaned against it as he worked the lock with his right hand.

Kyle and Wheat had awoken from their light doze at the sounds of Kid groans and movement in the next cell. They peered intently through the gloom.

"Whatcha doin', Kid?" Kyle whispered with concern and curiosity.

"Followin' the plan, Kyle. I need quiet; I don't do this near as often as Heyes or as well. I have to concentrate. Heyes will be here soon with our horses and I want to be ready."

Wheat spoke up, "Rest, Kid. Why don't we wait until Heyes comes? He'll have the keys and even if he don't, he can open the lock in no time."

Kid didn't stop his lock picking effort. "I want to be outta here quick. I don't trust Tanner not to show up to check on Deputy Hotchkiss. We're gonna have to ride straight to the Hole 'cos you know Tanner will telegraph every town within one hundred miles."

"Tanner's sound asleep. You're a little feverish so maybe you're…"

"Wheat!" Kid hissed with authority despite the underlying pain in his voice.

"Okay, Kid. You play with the lock until Heyes gets here. But it's a helluva ride with only Preacher and Lobo at the end. You ain't in the best of shape."

"Wheat, shut up."

Kid smiled to himself as the lock clicked softy open and froze at the sound of the jail door opening.

Heyes rushed in, locked the door behind him and hurried to the cells. Curry slumped in relief and almost fell to his knees as the cell door swung open, catching himself with a fast grab at the bars.

"Whooee, Kid, you did it! You picked the lock and it didn't even take you hours." Kyle grinned in appreciation as he and Wheat waited by their own cell door.

Heyes supported his partner while he opened the other cell using the key. Kid slipped the lock pick back where it belonged – into Heyes' pocket. Wheat pulled open office drawers until he located their gun belts. The four armed outlaws made their way out the back door where their saddled horses were waiting.

It took all three healthy men to get Kid into the saddle. A brief argument ensued between the leader who wanted to ride double with the Kid, and Curry, the most stubborn man to ever have lived, according to Heyes. Curry didn't want to slow the horses down by loading one with extra weight. He finally consented to being tied to his saddle to guard against him falling off, which as the three others pointed out was likely, given his condition, and he had to concede that would slow them down just as much. Wheat and Kyle led the way out of town with Heyes at the back, squinting in the dark to keep one eye on his partner, who was riding in front of him, and one eye periodically behind, scanning for pursuers, cursing to himself at his inability to get Kid to a doctor and his culpability for the circumstance.

* * *

The entire Devil's Hole Gang membership waited solemnly in front of the leader's cabin as their Heyes, leading his lieutenant's horse, rode into the yard. Hank, Hognose and Dutch were immediately at the dark bay's flank helping Heyes untie the slumped-over and unconscious Kid Curry from the saddle while Kyle gathered the chestnut's and bay's reins.

"Preacher's inside. He started getting everything ready as soon as Wheat and Kyle arrived." Lobo informed Heyes as he opened the door to the leader's cabin.

"On the table, boys," Preacher directed as the men headed towards Kid's bedroom. They changed direction and laid Curry on the cabin's large wooden table.

The jolt sent a shockwave of pain through the Kid strong enough to pierce the dense fog he'd been lost in. Blue eyes cast about the surroundings, trying to obtain his bearings. A black-haired man, lifting a slender boning knife out of a pot of boiling water with a pair of tongs, blearily came into focus. Kid closed his eyes and shuddered with the sudden knowledge of what was to come. A familiar voice, heavy with pain of a different kind, called his name softly close to his right ear. Curry turned his head and Heyes' face swam into view.

Heyes lifted Kid's head and held a glass of whiskey to his lips. "Drink this."

"No, I'll throw up."

"Throwing up is not in the plan. Come on, it'll help."

Curry cracked a weak grin but rolled his head away from Heyes' hand. "You need it more than me. You drink it."

Preacher and Lobo started to cut the bandages and Kid's shirt away from his body while Wheat shooed everyone not immediately needed out the cabin's door. Heyes gripped Kid's right hand with one hand and placed the other firmly on Kid's right shoulder. Wheat came back to the table and stationed himself at the foot, ready to hold down Curry's legs.

"Wait…wait a minute," Curry gasped as he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears of pain forming from falling as Preacher exploratively probed the wound.

All activity stopped in order to give Curry the time needed to gain control and prepare himself.

Kid clutched Heyes' hand hard and looked up into the deeply troubled brown eyes. He took as deep a breath as his body would allow and forced out what he needed to say with typical Curry stubbornness, "Heyes, go. Take care of my horse for me."

Heyes looked down in confusion. _He has a fever and is certainly in a lot of pain but he still appears lucid._ "Kyle's taking care of the horses. I need to stay here with you."

"I need you to take care of my horse for me, not Kyle. I don't need you to watch this. I don't want you to be here. We all know what's gonna happen is not going to be pleasant. I don't want you punishin' yourself by havin' to watch. It's gonna hurt you more than me. I'll pass out eventually, but you'll force yourself to watch me bleedin' and you'll be thinkin' wrong thoughts the whole time. You did what you had to Heyes. Please go."

Heyes stared down at the pale face lying on the dark wood of their table and knew by the look in the blue eyes and set jaw, that this was one argument his partner needed to win. He nodded once, turned from the table, grabbed the whiskey bottle and walked out the door.

* * *

"Heyes? Heyes, are you still in here?" Wheat peered into the near empty barn. He could see Kid Curry's dark bay placidly helping himself to the oats on offer through the slanting golden rays of the late afternoon sunshine, but no sign of the Devil's Hole Gang's leader. Wheat started to turn from the barn door when his ears caught a clink and a muffled curse. The self-proclaimed first bandit strode over to the bay's stall and looked down. There was Heyes, clutching a near-empty whiskey bottle, staring morosely at the gelding's legs.

"Here you are."

Heyes looked up from his sprawled reclining position in the freshly laid straw. "Here I is. I wasn't wanted inside so I'm here in the barn, with my partner's horse, not my partner."

Wheat opened the stall door, leaned down to haul his somewhat worse for drink leader up, none too gently, and deposited him on a hay bale. He swiped the whiskey bottle out of Heyes' grip and finished the liquor in one swift swig. "You're not the only one needing a drink, you know."

Heyes stared owlishly back and slurred, "Sorry, you can finish it."

"I already did." Wheat wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and contemplated how to handle the situation. It was times like these that he appreciated Heyes' and Kid's way with people. _Hell, I can come up with just as good plans if I have to, well maybe not, but there's no two ways about it, those two just have a way 'bout them._

"You want somethin', Wheat? Besides whiskey, 'cos I don't have no more."

Wheat studied the disheveled man, doubted that Heyes would remember everything but gave his report anyway, "Yeah, Preacher's finished. Kid's fine. He's all clean, bandaged up and tucked into his own bed. Lobo's sittin' with him. Preacher got the bullet out; it was right under the broken collar bone and it didn't hit nothin' important. They flushed the wound out real good so no infection should take hold and Kid's strong so he'll be able to fight any that might occur."

Heyes sat up straighter and looked attentive so Wheat continued, "He passed out halfway through so don't worry, he didn't feel them settin' the bone. He's sleepin now but he woke up when we got him in bed. Lobo made him take a few sips of broth after we promised we'd come get you only when all the blood and stuff was all cleaned up so you'd never know he was under the knife on your table. You can go see him now, Heyes."

Heyes mustered all his energy to fix Wheat with his best leader of the gang stare. "You wouldn't lie to me? Kid's gonna be all right?"

Wheat held up his right hand, "Get me Preacher's Bible. Heyes, Kid's gonna be fine. Go see for yourself."

After a long look, Heyes struggled to his feet. He swayed, stuck out his hand to the hay bale to gain his balance and took a deep calming breath. He made his way shakily to the barn door when Wheat's gruff voice stopped him. He turned and faced his sometime adversary.

"Heyes, Kyle and I want to say thanks. Thanks for comin' back to get us. We know what it cost you and the Kid to do what you did…" Wheat met Heyes sorrowful eyes before looking down at the dirt floor of the barn. He ground his toe on a piece of hay and cleared his throat before continuing, "I gotta hand it to you, Heyes. I wasn't sure you'd shoot; that took guts. Anyway, me and Kyle owe you and Kid our gratitude."

Heyes acknowledged Wheat with a solemn tilt of his dark head and renewed his journey to his best friend's side. _No, Wheat, what took guts was Kid standing there with an empty gun, silently yelling at me to shoot him, and trusting me not to kill him. That took more guts than I can handle and more trust than I deserve._

Wheat watched Heyes leave and muttered half reluctantly to himself, "You're a good leader, Heyes, the very best in every way. The Devil's Hole Gang is lucky to have you. And a man couldn't ask for a finer friend than the Kid."

Heyes was just sober enough to hear but he kept on walking.

 _Finis_


End file.
